An unusual Mutant
by potatos-ate-my-soul
Summary: Mike Wallman lived a relatively normal life until he was 15. Then everything went to hell, and after that he found out he was a mutant. My retelling of X2 with an OC included.
1. The Pain of Discovery

**Summary: This is basically my retelling of the events of X2 and possibly 3 with the addition of my own character. I realise loads of people have done this before, but in nearly every story i have read the new character is female, so I decided to break the mold and bring you my take on this. **

**Disclaimer: I solemly swear that I dont own X-men, and im not doing this for profit. Or am I?? Maybe I will write about my own rival gang over super heroes with mutant powers, The Y Men!!! And I will make millions of pounds and take over the world. Or perhaps not. **

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An unusual Mutant 

My name is Mike Wallman and my life changed forever when I was fifteen. It wasn't a happy change; it wasn't even a tolerable one. It was the sort of change that shattered your life into tiny pieces and left you to stare in shock at the remnants. It was the day my mother died.

I had never known my father, it was just me and mum. We lived in a fairly rough neighborhood in Detroit, near the middle of town. We never had much money, but mum always found some work and we were relatively happy. My school was like any other, I liked to learn, I wasn't the sort who got in trouble all the time, I was the sort who got on with doing as well as I could. I kept myself to myself mostly at school, I hung around with a few mates, but I wasn't very close to anyone there.

It was after school on a tuesday that it happened, my mum had picked me up in our old second car. I remember I felt embarrassed at the time, that our car was so old and rusty. I didn't want people at school to see it. It seems such a ridiculous thing to worry about now.

We stopped at the corner shop on the way home, we needed to buy milk. It was as we went up to the counter that it happened. A man came into the shop. He must have been about twenty five years old; he was wearing a hoody and had his hands in his pocket.

He came up to the counter and pulled out a gun. I froze; I truly had no idea how to react. I stood there open mouthed as he shouted at the cashier "Gimme all the money in the till!" His voice was deep, but there was an edge to it that spoke of nervousness and anxiety. The cashier was obviously as shocked as me but had the presence of mind to start appeasing the man, quickly replying that he would and opening the till.

My mum was thinking more clearly than me. She had started edging away from the counter, nudging me behind her as she went.

The till sprung open with the usual 'che-ching' noise. The man with the gun quickly leaned across the counter and snatched a few notes from within. Everything would have been okay if the cashier hadn't decided to be a hero. As the gunman was distracted he launched himself over the counter, tackling the man to the floor. The gun fired, two loud bangs, but the gun wasn't pointed at the cashier, his hand had been knocked out of the way and the shots went wild; pinging around the shop. The cashier and the man struggled on the floor for a moment before the thief got the upper hand. He pushed the cashier away and leapt to his feet. He must have lost his nerve, the plan had been to intimidate some people with a gun and steal some cash, he hadn't expected to actually have to fight anyone. He ran, with a few notes of money still clutched in one fist he sprinted out of the shop and ran off down the street.

This whole time I had been standing there, doing nothing at all, too surprised at the events to think of reacting in any way. The cashier carefully got to his feet, looking around slowly, considering pursuing the thief. Then his eyes turned in mine and mum's direction. His eyes widened, the whites clearly visible.

Mum had been standing still the whole time, standing in front of me. In front of the ricocheted bullet that should have hit me. I couldn't see this from behind; I only saw it when she slumped backward slightly. The spell that had held me immobile was broken; I quickly moved forward to catch her. Only seeing the terrible truth as I lowered her carefully to the ground. Blood, a terrible, awful red stain spreading so quickly across her blouse. The bullet had passed through her chest, severing the artery that fed blood to her left lung. The sheer unlikelihood of such a shot occurring from a ricochet is staggering. God is one sick bastard.

I put my hand over the wound. That's what you're supposed to do isn't it? Stop the bleeding, that's what all the TV stars do. In the distant background ii heard the cashier dialling for an ambulance. Fucking hero. My attention was focused on mum's face. Her expression was slightly shocked, her eyes twitching slightly as if confused. Her mouth parting slightly as she tried to draw breath and failed. Then her eyes focused on me as though seeing me for the first time. She looked into my eyes and she smiled – to reassure me that it was ok. Her lips opened as she tried to say something. I have thought a thousand times about what those words would have been. Reassurances? A goodbye? An expression of love? Her hopes for my future? A few final words to make up for a lifetime of conversations stolen away, but no, even this last little thing was taken from me.

The eyes, it all comes back to a persons eyes. They dance and shift, ever moving, sparkling with life and intensity. Then suddenly so ugly, so still, circles without any resemblance to the real thing; Bereft of focus, lifeless.

I brushed a hair off mum's face that had fallen out of place. That was important; she had always styled her hair carefully. I stood up. My mum's lifeless body on the floor, with a pool of blood, slowly spreading.

Grief rushed at me, like an avalanche, building slowly from a twinge in my gut to a huge unstoppable monster. Inescapable and deadly it finally swept over me; crushing me. My mum is dead; the most important person in the world is gone. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but there I stood, motionless. Gazing down at my own mothers corpse. Breathing in short ragged gasps as I tried to comprehend this event.

I felt like I would die, my world was gone. All that was left was a terrible ocean of grief. I was trapped in it, slowly drowning, and not even struggling, what was the point? Distantly, far removed from my mind, my body had collapsed. It was retching on the floor. Pain wracking through it. I left it to it, sinking down into misery and despair. How could anything compare to this, all else was unimportant.

All else bar one thing. A tiny spark of some other emotion, stubbornly remaining in spite of everything. My mind finally categorised it. Rage! Hatred and anger that this could happen. At the very idea that someone could have committed such a terrible crime. The spark was growing, growing into an all consuming monster. This was easier to accept than my grief; easier to allow this 'other' to take over. So I did, I surrendered my own mind to this young bestial angry creature.

The beast took its first breath. It stretched and its human form fell away. Muscles and tendons lengthened and reshaped themselves. Bones snapped and reformed. The form of a fifteen year old boy expanded outwards. The head reconfigured. Nose and mouth stretching out to form a muzzle. Teeth lengthening and sharpening, fur began to sprout all over the body, a course dark grey. The bones between ankle and toes lengthened, lifting the heel off the ground and leaving just the rapidly roughening pad of the foot on the floor, surrounded by the split remnants of shoes. Ribs popped as they expanded too, the T-shirt torn into so many rags by the rapid expansion. Finally, two inch talons grew out of the hands and feet, displacing the previous puny nails. The Beast, standing an intimidating seven feet high took a step forward. It howled its rage at the world and at one being in particular, a scent of nervousness and anxiety. A scent responsible for the death of the Beast's mother. A scent that the Beast would hunt down no matter what stood in its way.

The cashier had been concerned at first as the young man in front of him had collapsed and begun writhing on the floor. That was until he began to change, that was the point at which the cashier had become terrified. By the time the sickening crunches and snaps had subsided he was in a state of awed horror. This couldn't be a mutant could it? Mutants were supposed to be just people who were slightly different right? They weren't supposed to turn into what looked very much like a fucking werewolf! And they certainly weren't supposed to do it on his shop!

When the beast howled the cashier came to his senses and dived to the floor beneath the checkout. Trying to unsuccessfully become part of the laminate flooring and cease to exist. Tackling would-be thieves was one thing, but this was rather out of his league. He was so terrified that it took him nearly fifteen minutes to finally poke his head back up over the counter, by which time the Beast was long gone, off hunting.

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**So, what do you think? If you think its good then write me a review and I'll post the next chapter. If you dont think its good write me a review to tell me why it sucked, either way, click that nice little 'review' button.**

**Oh, by the way, dont be dismayed by the lack of X-men, they'll be joining the fun soon enough.**


	2. Vengeance

Well, heres chapter 2. It gets a little bit gory so if you object too much, write to me and I'll up the rating. Enjoy : D

_Italics _represent speech between the Beast and Mike.

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Chapter 2

Night fell early in winter in Detroit. It may have only been five o' clock but the sun was already setting. _Excellent_, thought the Beast with savage glee. It took a moment of hard thought to extract the reason why; less people, that was it. People seeing him was bad. The Beast may have only been minutes old but he was quickly learning about his environment. The 'other' was very helpful, the weak grief stricken, mind within him. He might simply be blubbering and weeping quietly in the background for now but his memories were perfectly accessible. Through these his predatory mind had quickly analysed what he needed, his own instincts would deal with anything else.

After he left the shop he quickly scaled a nearby building so as to avoid being seen by too many people. His claws made light work of the task. The shops along this street were mostly only one storey high, even better they were close together, easy to jump between. The scent was still strong, it would have made little difference, the Beast could have identified his prey from a crowd of hundreds if necessary.

The Beast had been born of rage and hatred but he had transcended into something more, more than just an instrument of vengeance. He had become his own creature, sentient in his own right, albeit sharing a mind with another. _Don't worry though_, the Beast thought at the despairing other mind within him. _I'll still tear apart whoever did this to our mother_, the Beast continued, sending a graphic image to reinforce the words. The other didn't seem reassured, he was gibbering quietly away in the background. _Weakling_, thought the Beast - no response.

As this mental exchange had been going on the Beast had been stalking along the rooftops, following the prey's scent. He moved with a grace that belied his size and strength, every inch the predator on the hunt. The lights were too damned bright thought the Beast; they keep spoiling my night vision . . . better to be out in the wilds and forests he thought. Still, I have one hunt to complete first. The Beast realized with a start that the scent had been growing steadily stronger. He was close. There! The warehouse across the street, the prey had gone in there.

The Beast measured the distances in his mind, possible; hopefully. A grin that would terrify anyone with the sheer number of teeth shown spread across his muzzle. He backed up, moving to the side of the roof opposite the warehouse, he had a nice flat roof to run on and a ledge to spring off. Opposite, the roof of a warehouse gently sloped, with windows just below the guttering.

Braced. Ready? GO! He sprinted across the roof, using all four limbs to go faster. The other let out a little whimper as the edge of the roof hurtled closer. He sprang. The sense of power, the sensation of speed!

Anyone watching would have seen a blur of fur and claws fly across the street. At least thirty feet! Thankfully nobody was watching as this was a bad area to be in after dark

_I'm going to make it_! The Beast thought exultantly. _I'm going to die_! Thought the other. As it turns out they were both wrong. He almost made it, instead of landing neatly on the roof; he had just barely missed it. Smashing instead through the windows just below.

Shit! Thought the Beast he fell with increasing momentum toward the concrete warehouse floor. Roll! Roll! A desperate instinct screamed at him, so he did. Cushioning the impact with his shoulder and rolling neatly into a crouch in the middle of the room.

It was only at this stage that he had a chance to see what the warehouse contained. Or rather, who. His nose hadn't led him wrong. The prey was here, as demonstrated by the other rousing himself from his moping for a moment to express his hatred into their shared mind. The problem however, the Beast realised, was that there were several other people here too. Twelve in fact, all young men. Gang members, the other thought with shock.

Now if living on the streets of Detroit can teach a person one thing, it's to be prepared for anything; always watchful. One thing it did not teach however was what to do when a seven foot hairy creature jumps through a second story window into your midst. Understandably they were all a bit shocked. When the Beast roared his challenge at them however, deep routed instincts shouted to each of them, fight or flight? Unfortunately for them they had been at the top of the inner city food chain for too long. They had little experience of having to run away and so they chose to fight.

Two of them immediately pulled out hand guns, the rest rushed toward the nearest object that could be used as a weapon.

The Beast quickly leapt, pouncing on the nearest figure. Internally the Beast shouted his joy at the rush of combat. Reaching down to the squirming figure he gripped both arms and pulled. The youth screamed as he was torn into two bloody pieces. The Beast marvelled at how easy it was. The gang members seemed to hesitate at the gruesome sight. Then the retort of a gun, a quick sharp crack! Pain! The Beast roared in outrage that they would actually hurt him. The bullet had hit him in the shoulder, driving him back a step.

The Beast let go, let go of the thin leash of self control, all of its cunning intelligence, and let the rage rule its actions. He became an animal in truth. A red haze descended, only flashes of memory came to him after that. A screaming face. A severed limb. His jaws squeezing a human throat. Blood, on him, on the floor, on the walls, even some on the ceiling.

Clear thought returned, the Beast and the other looking at the destruction that had been wrought. The first sight that became obvious was the face of the man they had been hunting, the man who had killed their mother. An expression of terror and pain on his dead face, most of his guts strung about him on the floor. The Beast was fairly impressed. The other did it's best to vomit. In that moment neither mind had full control of the body, so he choked. The body being sent two conflicting signals, it was an interesting sight, seeing a seven foot 'werewolf' choking and trying to clear its throat. Wheezing in great gasps of air. _STOP IT!_ Thought the Beast angrily, this is my body now! The other resisted, crying and trying to wrest back control of its own, seriously altered body. The Beast retaliated, projecting an image of their mother at him. The grief was too much, the shock reminder too sudden. The other cried and collapsed back into the background. Damned right thought the Beast, _I'm in charge now!_

Time to get going, thought the Beast, the woods and open spaces await. Without as much as a backward glance he found a side door and disappeared into the night. Leaving behind a terrible scene of carnage and slaughter for the police to find two days later.

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Next chapter will introduce the X-men, if you wanna see it sooner, then review and i will post it. 


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